


Bouquet of Sentiments

by straylize



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trust, soft bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24989080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straylize/pseuds/straylize
Summary: Burdens can only be shouldered alone for so long before the ones you trust most will start to notice.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke & Persona 5 Protagonist, Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 3
Kudos: 70





	Bouquet of Sentiments

**Author's Note:**

> This was my piece for the Found a Light Shukita zine, themed around freesias!

The interrogation had been completely draining; there was only so much mental and physical abuse one could withstand before being completely worn down by it. Every last inch of Akira’s body ached from the inside out—from scrapes and scratches on his face to the deep purple bruising on his ribs and thighs hidden well beneath layers of clothing, it seemed no part of him was able to escape that discomfort. Waves of nausea washed over him periodically, causing his fair skin to take on a sickly, ashen tone. Much like every other hardship Akira faced, though, he swallowed it back. For the long hours of reuniting with the people he cared for, listening to them tell the tale of their bold and successful plan, he bit back every wince of pain and sensation of rising bile in his throat.

He had endured a lot, to be certain—but that was nobody’s burden but his to bear, as far as Akira was concerned. He was Joker, leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves of Hearts, and that meant he couldn’t allow himself to be slowed down by something so trivial. He had a ragtag team of rogues that looked to him for leadership and guidance as well as a brand of justice that he had to ensure was carried out. It was far better for him to wear a brave face—not just for his team, but for their allies in Sojiro and Sae as well; those who had helped saved his skin in more ways than one. As far as Akira was concerned, shouldering those burdens and the physical pain was just a small price to pay in order for their plan to see fruition. He smiled easily as he could through it all, cracked a few jokes along the way, and pushed back any feelings that could cause any manner of concern for those around them.

The relief he felt as everyone filed out of the cafe and went their separate ways was palpable. Akira could hardly hold back even a moment longer before his shoulders slumped and his eyelids fluttered closed; his expression quickly contorted into a wince as a pained groan escaped his throat. His burden to bear indeed, but it was undoubtedly a hellish feeling. It was the first time he’d had even a moment to himself since the events had occurred, and the first Akira had allowed himself to feel that pain wash over him without having to bite it back for the sake of someone else. The overwhelming sensations caused his ears to tune out any of the ambient sounds; the idle chatter on the TV, the sound of dogs barking out in the alley—none of it seemed to reach his ears. His mind told him it would be best to drag himself upstairs and to his bed to sleep off the pain, but his body protested. Every last inch of his body  _ ached _ to a sickening degree, and all Akira could do was try to reason with himself. Just a few minutes there, eyes closed and head resting against the counter before beginning the herculean effort to move would suffice—

“...Akira?” The sound of a voice cut through his thoughts as smoothly as a knife through butter. With the exhaustion and pain having dazed him, Akira hadn’t heard anyone re-enter Leblanc, nor had he heard footsteps approaching. That in itself was a sign that he wasn’t well; Akira’s senses tended to be keen and sharp thanks to his double-life as a phantom thief. It took a long moment to process whose voice he was hearing, though before he could react, the gentle, familiar touch of a hand against his shoulder told him precisely who it was.

Yusuke’s fingers were long and slender, somehow befitting of his nature as an artist. They belonged to deft, strong hands—deceptively strong, which Akira only realized when he felt one pressed against a bruised shoulder. He responded by tensing, followed by an equally reflexive wince, all but giving away what he’d tried so hard to hide while everyone surrounded him.

“I see…” Yusuke drew his hand back, reluctant. Akira wasn’t able to see the way Yusuke’s brows drew together in concern, nor how his head dipped in restrained disappointment and concern at what he was witnessing. “So the injuries you sustained were far worse than they seemed at first glance after all.”

Akira winced for a second time, though this time not because of physical pain—this time, it was because he’d been caught red-handed, and Yusuke was calling him out on it. More than anything, he’d hoped he could mask his feelings, but it appeared to be to no avail.

“It’s just a few bruises. Nothing a little sleep can’t fix,” Akira lied as he turned his head and offered Yusuke a hazy smile, as if to properly shrug off his injuries and sweep them under the rug in the same manner he always had. How many times had he done that before? How many times had he taken a hit and shrugged it off? How many times had he told everyone he was fine in an effort to keep anyone from wasting energy or stock on healing? Akira honestly had lost count  _ Palaces  _ ago _. _ This time would be no different.

That had been his intent, at least.

But Yusuke’s expression didn’t ease; if anything, it seemed that his expression was further clouding with frustration in addition to his disappointment and worry. It was rare to see Yusuke looking that way, but Akira had little in the way of energy to break the building tension. For a long moment, Yusuke said nothing at all; he only stood there, looking Akira up and down. It made him feel exposed, as if somehow Yusuke could see through him completely. When the moment passed, Yusuke spoke, voice gentle enough to somehow betray the borderline-angry expression he held.

“Akira,” he started, but gave Akira no time to respond. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Akira saw no reason to refuse.

For a moment, Yusuke seemed to hesitate; after a moment, he regained his bearings to pull up a chair next to Akira. He sat himself down, close as he could without truly impeding on Akira’s personal space. It took another long moment, leaving an awkward silence that hung heavily in the air, before he spoke again. “Do you not trust me? Or… perhaps it would be better to ask—do you not trust the  _ Phantom Thieves _ ?”

The way Akira suddenly straightened his shoulders was reactionary; the question caused disbelief and shock to make him jolt. That tension was met with surging pain that caused a reactionary hiss. When he attempted to speak a moment later, he stumbled on his words, completely uncharacteristic of Akira; it was as if any mask he had been wearing cracked and fell to pieces right before Yusuke. “Of course—I—do you really think… I don’t trust you?”

Yusuke struggled inwardly, conflicted at the mix of emotions that the situation had wrought. It pained him to see Akira in pain. It relieved him, even if only a little, to see Akira drop some of his iron facade. But still, he was aggravated—despite Akira’s struggles, the words Yusuke held at the tip of his tongue couldn’t wait for his recovery to be spoken. So rather than wait, he steeled himself to say what was on his mind. Yusuke’s tone was gentle, yet still firm as he laid bare what had been boiling over for what seemed like months.

“It’s difficult for me to understand why you’ve been lying,”  _ to us. To me. _ “You’ve helped me in countless ways since we met. And I am… very grateful for that, Akira. We have all relied on you in our darkest times, and you never let us down. But now…”

Yusuke trailed off, trepidation settling in as the words he sought didn’t come so easily. Words weren’t his forte—expression of feelings through art was how he worked best, but he didn’t have the luxury of time to do so. He needed to find the words—but what was the best way to say that he hated how Akira insisted on shouldering his burdens alone? Or that he wished to be someone Akira would rely on? He’d long been unable to properly express the sentiments that filled his heart to brim, wrestling with when the right time would be to call them forward. Here and now, in the aftermath of the danger Akira had faced was enough, though. The intensity in his own heart burned harder upon hearing the false (though expected) news report of his death—he could no longer hold back, lest he miss his chance.

For his part, Akira remained silent. He knew to give Yusuke time, to allow him to say what he was thinking—there was no reason to interrupt, for all that he could think of a few interjections to nip their misunderstanding in the bud. 

“Now is a time when we should be helping  _ you, _ but… you’ve closed us off from that possibility.”

  
  


The intensity and mix of emotions coming from Yusuke was palpable; there was little denying that the eccentricities that sometimes left him oblivious were nowhere to be found. Yusuke was wholly aware of what Akira had been doing, and it took hearing the words so bluntly for Akira to accept how inconsiderate his actions may have been. Silence fell between them for another long moment, surprise visible in Yusuke’s expression.

“Yusuke…” He broke the silence, lids fluttered shut behind the lenses of his glasses. Akira spoke the only words he knew appropriate for their present situation. “Thank you. And… I’m sorry.”

Somehow, Yusuke hadn’t expected gratitude or an apology, and that left him dumbfounded. Akira took the silence as an opportunity to say what he believed Yusuke deserved to hear.

“I didn’t want you to worry.  _ Any _ of you,” Akira’s head dipped slightly as he spoke, embarrassed to have to make such an admission at all. “I never thought about it like that. I threw myself into the fire that way  _ because _ I trust you. And… I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for that.”

“I… I see.” Yusuke still appeared taken aback, intensity having deflated at those honest words. It was very much like Akira to abide by that logic; not wanting to cause worry to those he trusted most. He’d put his life in their hands, but all the same, Yusuke was left with new questions. How much had Akira truly suffered alone because of that? Not just before the Phantom Thieves had formed, but while they were all working together and leaning on one another? 

Yusuke was no stranger to burdensome situations himself; he was well aware that on more than one occasion, he had relied on Akira to help him get through his own. And that meant there was only one thing he could do, should do—found it  _ necessary _ to do. It took him a moment to internally reclaim his composure, punctuated with a deep breath.

“While I have no reason to doubt you as leader… I must ask, Akira. Can you prove that true to  _ me? _ ” 

Akira’s initial response was a slight grimace. Prove it to Yusuke? There was a strange connotation that came with that question. Perhaps it had been the words on their own, or the way Yusuke spoke them—whatever it was, it dredged up a feeling in his heart he thought he’d locked away. A faint light or warmth and hope flickered within him as his lips curved upward, allowing a faint, tired smirk to tug at the corners of his mouth. “I might need a guideline or two for that.”

Yusuke couldn’t help but smile at a response that was so undeniably  _ Akira.  _ It was undoubtedly difficult to see their fearless leader worn down, but all the same, Akira managed to provide something familiar and comforting. His baiting lines and cocky half-smiles gave Yusuke solace—enough so that he had to remind himself not to be disarmed by Akira’s charms. He’d come back to Leblanc for a reason, and with a goal, so he couldn’t let those priorities fall to the wayside just from seeing a single smile. He steeled himself to continue on without distraction. “Tell me where your injuries are.”

Akira perked slightly. “Oh? Are you going to tend to my wounds, Nurse Kitagawa?”

Yusuke’s expression gave way to a subdued smile of his own, unable to hold back any longer. “You’ve hidden everything but the bruising on your face. I don’t want to cause you any more discomfort, so you’ll have to tell me.” 

Akira felt the fires of victory light seeing Yusuke smile. After all that had transpired and the worry he’d caused, the atmosphere around them seemed to brighten significantly. As much as he’d enjoyed seeing all his friends in the Phantom Thieves joyously celebrating their plan’s success, there was something even more satisfying in seeing Yusuke smile so endearingly. Though Yusuke had been frustrated and scolding him moments earlier, the implication that Akira wasn’t going to shoulder his burdens alone seemed to lift the weight in the air that had felt so crushing.

“Everywhere, really,” Akira responded cheekily, as if adding a bit of levity would somehow change the fact that his entire body ached. It took a moment before he tapped very gently at his left thigh. “But mostly my ribs, and this leg. That’s where the worst of it is.”

Even if it was a bit of a hassle, Akira wasn’t too fussed about it. He could go into the Metaverse once he’d rested; his injuries were nothing a quick Diarahan couldn’t fix, after all. Despite surely knowing that, Yusuke stood before him, in deep contemplation about how he should he make his approach. 

“Hm,” Yusuke let out a quiet, thoughtful hum before he stood up, shoulders straightening with determination. “I don’t believe there will be any way to do this that is entirely painless.”

Akira’s head tilted to one side, unsure of what Yusuke may have been planning. Before he could say anything, Yusuke continued his train of thought. “Please, place your trust in me, Akira.”

“Yus-” He wanted to reiterate that he  _ did _ trust Yusuke. Akira wasn’t given a chance to finish his sentence before a sweeping motion overtook his senses. Unable to even say the rest of Yusuke’s name, he’d been swept up into Yusuke’s arms, held in a princess-carry. “-ukeeeeh….”

A flash of blinding pain overtook Akira, causing the rest of Yusuke’s name to be hissed out. Yusuke himself winced; he’d wanted to make his grand, heroic gesture without causing pain, but the injuries were more severe than he could easily work around. Akira remained quiet a moment longer as the worst of the pain subsided, leaving him with that persistent ache that had exhausted him to begin with.

“Sometimes I forget how strong you are,” Akira finally spoke; it was a quiet signal that he could both show his pain and his ability to persevere. His words were nothing short of true, regardless. Yusuke’s tall, wiry frame continuously betrayed his raw strength.

Yusuke’s brief tension eased, his head dipped slightly for a moment before he began his careful movements towards the staircase at the back of the cafe, and the ascent to Akira’s attic bedroom. “I suppose now is the rare time it comes in use, beyond defeating Shadows.”

“A nurse, a personal knight...” Akira offered playfully; he could entrust Yusuke with his well-being and maintain his comfortable, dry sense of humor, after all. “...An artist, a Phantom Thief. Truly a man of many talents.”

Yusuke paused for a brief moment as he reached the top of the steps. His head shook, but the coy smile on his lips didn’t falter. “I believe that must be the highest of praise, coming from our multi-talented leader.”

“Ah, stop. I’m blushing,” Akira maintained that dry, humorous demeanor—he wasn’t blushing at all, of course. Even still, hearing those faint praises from Yusuke warmed him a bit. Perhaps this was furthered by the way Yusuke made his way to Akira’s bed and placed him gingerly atop it. The reason Yusuke’s strength was often so deceptive was precisely because he only used it when necessary. He was gentle by nature; an eccentric artist who typically wished no harm on others, especially not those whom he cared for most.

“Then I suppose I can give you a moment to collect yourself,” Yusuke played along easily, his words casual as he straightened his posture. “I have to retrieve the first aid kit, anyway. Boss said it would be fine for me to use it.” 

And that was something for which Yusuke was grateful; it would have been embarrassing to have to borrow money from anyone for first aid supplies. He’d already spent the last of his stipend on art supplies— _ again _ —and hadn’t been prepared for the notion that Akira would come home injured (and hiding it). Akira offered him a nod, with no intent or ability to stop him from doing so. It wouldn’t take long for Yusuke to make his way down the stairs to find the first aid kit. He took the stairs two at a time to return to Akira’s side, but found himself surprised by the sight before him upon his return to the attic. It had only a scant five minutes, but in that time, Akira had fallen asleep. The exhaustion, the pain—and the knowledge he was in good hands was enough for Akira’s consciousness to finally give out on him.

“Ah…” It took Yusuke a moment to process what that signified beyond the fact that Akira truly had pushed himself to the limit. He knew, after all, that Akira wouldn’t have allowed himself to fall asleep if he didn’t feel it was safe to. That alone, more than any words, any conscious gestures—that was proof in itself that there was an innate trust that existed between them. In his chest, Yusuke could feel the intensity of his heart thumping, though he forced himself to push forward even as his heart raced. He had no intention of waking Akira when he needed the rest, but he had a promise to keep. For one night, he would be  _ Nurse Kitagawa _ and tend to Akira’s wounds. And that was precisely what he did. With careful purpose, he removed articles of clothing; he disinfected wounds and applied bandages. He cooled Akira’s head with a compress when he felt feverish, and made sure to do every last thing gingerly, to not disturb him from his deep sleep.

When he awoke the next morning, Akira was surprised at the sight before him. The sun filtered in through the window, shining a gentle light to call attention to the boy who had remained beside him through the night. At some point, Yusuke too, had succumbed to sleep, sat in a chair next to the bed and head resting over his arms atop the mattress. Though his body still ached terribly, it was without the severity of the previous night. He could feel the bandaging on his ribs and see the now-dried washcloth from the corner of his eye. There was little doubting that Yusuke had been a dutiful nurse through the night. Instinct guided his fingers to brush a few stray hairs from Yusuke’s sleeping face. 

It was a short-lived moment, an endeared smile settling on Akira’s lips as he wished he could watch Yusuke sleep a bit longer. He deserved the rest, and Akira wanted to treasure what he felt was a quiet, precious sight before him. It wasn’t long before Yusuke felt the morning sun shining on him and Akira quickly drew his hand back. There wasn’t much time for talk; Yusuke was in a near-mad scramble in order to not be late for school. Much as he’d wanted to stay, they both knew it to be true that they had to maintain routine wherever possible so as not to draw suspicion to the Phantom Thieves. It gave Akira time to enact a plan of his own, an idea that would more than make up for the morning being cut abruptly short. It had taken all his willpower to get up and get his phone, but the result was more than worth it.

When Yusuke returned to his dorm that evening, there was a brilliant bouquet waiting for him. It was comprised entirely of freesias in a brilliant assortment of colors—white, purple, pink, yellow. Attached was a card that simply read ‘ _ Thank you.’ _

Yusuke took a long moment to bring the bouquet close, breathing in the sweet floral fragrance. His art had taught him much about the language of flowers—enough to know this  _ thank you _ was also indicative of Akira’s trust. That trust wouldn’t be wasted—nor would the flowers. Freesia sparked his inspiration, that would soon come in the form of a painting, a thank you of his own for Akira.


End file.
